


T-Minus Six Hours

by CKBookish



Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [14]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, Mystery, Riddler steals the Batmobile, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin, Tim Drake-centric, Tim needs a night off, batfam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24442906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed.  Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though.  Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him.  Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down.  He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him.  He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor.Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it.BatmanBingo2020: Stealing the Batmobile
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Batman Bingo 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1590904
Comments: 24
Kudos: 323





	T-Minus Six Hours

**Author's Note:**

> So I kid you not I've been working on this for three months but I still don't know how I feel about it. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Anyway comments are always treasured and Kudos are my only current source of hugs! Yea for being quarantined alone!!! Also if you're by yourself too have a virtual hug from me!

Today we burn the rules and hope the flames don’t take us too

* * *

Some days Tim is sure that he’s gonna be killed. Usually it’s some luck shot or near miss that made his life flash before his eyes. Not today though. Today he was positive Bruce was going to kill him. Yes, today was the day that Timothy Jackson Drake was going to be put down. He’s not sure that even Nightwing could save him. He was going to go down in history as the first sidekick to be murdered by their mentor. 

Because the Batmobile was definitely not where he’d parked it. 

Tim stood in the alleyway, jaw practically on the dirty concrete. He had been gone for no longer than twenty minutes. He had _borrowed_ the Batmobile for transporting surveillance equipment that was too bulky and clumsy for his bike, and now it was gone. After looking at the empty space for five seconds, he decided he was in the wrong alley and grappled to the roof. He must have parked a block over, or was it two? The Batmobile wasn’t within a five block radius. Bruce was going to kill him. No that wasn't right, when Bruce came home from Central City he was going to fire him, and _then_ kill him. 

Tim exhaled slowly. _Okay don’t panic. You have another six hours until he gets home._ Six hours. Tim could find the car in six hours. _Look at the evidence. Investigate._

Tim swung back into the first Alley and began combing it for clues, any physical indicators of who might’ve taken the car. There was no broken glass, it would have taken a tank to break the windows anyway. There were no skid marks, no boot scuffs, nothing. 

Tim grabbed his hair in frustration. How had this happened? Didn’t the car have endless safety features. Tim was almost certain that Bruce said it was ‘unstealable’. 

Tim looked again. Nothing. It was like the alley had been vacuumed and even the traces of petty crime had been erased. He looked in the dumpster, looked for anything. The dumpster revealed absolutely nothing. It was filled with trash from the restaurant. Tim flicked off a piece of crab rangoon that stuck to his cape. _Okay. Cameras._ Tim pulled up his mobile connect to the Batcomputer and began searching all surveillance and traffic cams in a twenty block radius. He sorted through each one. At exactly 11:07 every feed within four blocks cut out and a green question mark appeared. 

Riddler.

Tim bit back a groan. He hated Nygma. The man was irritating. Tim wasn’t worried that he wouldn’t be able to crack the Riddler’s puzzles. Tim had gone up against him enough times to feel confident in his own riddle solving abilities. So that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he now only had.-- He glanced at his watch-- 5 hours and 21 minutes to do it. He was worried about finding the Batmobile _before_ Batman was back. Tim almost finished dialing Dick’s phone number before he remembered that he was working the night shift this week. He put his phone back in his utility belt. He was on his own for this. 

Robin found himself swinging through town to Pandora’s Box, a run down club on the Northern side of the Bowery. Echo, one of Nygma’s associates, tended bar at the old club. Tim didn’t particularly want to walk into a gang heavy location by himself, but what else was there to do. Tim landed softly on a fire escape and began surveying the entrance. There was a mixed crowd gathered outside. Typical party goers, and a few men he recognized as working for the Falcones, a handful of False Facers and there was even a motorbike that looked suspiciously like Harley Quinn's. 

Robin watched the club for a long time. He was forbidden under any and all circumstances from entering it by himself. Well, he hadn’t been forbidden from this specific club. It was more that he was forbidden from going _anywhere_ where he would be outnumbered and without backup. Batman had an ever long list of rules that Tim was under no circumstance allowed to disobey. Disobeying orders would end in his immediate dismissal as Robin. Tim had broken a total of 47 rules to date. 

This however, this would be pushing the envelope so far, he may as well light Batman’s list on fire and dance around the ashes. Maybe he should just tell Batman he lost the Batmobile. Robin’s shutter had nothing to do with the cold wind coming off the nearby bay. He slid down from his perch and slowly made his way to the back entrance. He would rather deal with the mob below then a disappointed and angry Batman. 

Tim slipped in without being seen. He was practically a real life ninja after all. Which he reasoned as being pretty cool most of the time. Right now, he thought it was slightly terrifying. He was breaking the biggest rule there was. And for once it was one that even he had a hard time arguing as just Bruce being over protective. It felt like he was walking into a minefield. His palms were sweating inside of his gloves. 

The back door was completely unguarded. 

Robin slipped inside after quickly picking the lock. The back room looked like it was mostly forgotten. Dust coated shelves and boxes of varying emptiness were scattered about the floor. The floor, and walls shook slightly from the base of the music that blasted in the other room. Tim realized all too quickly he hadn’t thought this through. He couldn’t slip into the main part of the club unnoticed. Robin was not the best disguise for disappearing within a crowded room. It was as he was pondering what the best course of action would be that he saw the doorknob began to move. Tim melted into the dark shadows of the room as the door to the bar opened. 

Yeah, this was Tim’s worst idea yet… Or maybe not.

In walked none other than his target. Echo strode over to the pantry and reemerged clutching a large gallon jar of pickles. Tim darted forward before he could think better of it. 

Echo fell back through the door of the pantry as Tim leapt on her, his hand firmly pressed on her mouth to stop her shout of surprise.

With his ankle Robin pulled the door closed behind them. “Where is it?”

Echo squirmed under his grip, and mumbled into his hand. 

“I know Nygma took it. So where did he stash it?” Tim removed his hand only to place the edge of a batarang against her ribs. It was actually a sonic one, but she didn’t need to know that. He glanced at the clock. How had he lost two hours? 

“Robin? Seriously what the hell? Nygma’s been AWOL for months I’ve no idea where he is. Okay?” She glared back at him still clutching her pickle jar. 

“Oh please. We both know that you’re in contact with him.” Tim suddenly felt unsure. What would he do if he couldn’t find Nygma before Bruce returned? Tim was sure that losing the Batmobile-- especially when he was strictly forbidden from using it-- was high on the list of the biggest mistakes anyone had ever made as Robin. 

“Look, Brat. I don’t know who you think you're kidding here. If I shout the entire club will come running with guns and I really don’t think your Batman will be too happy with you then. So just scram before I get angry.” Her eyes flashed dangerously.

“I just need a location. Or maybe you would rather take this up with Batman? He’s not exactly in a good mood right now.” Robin held his breath hoping the bluff would work. If it didn’t he was going to be in an even bigger mess.

“Look, last I heard he was holed up in some old fire station in Cobble Hill. But I have no clue what you’re on about. You tell the Bat, I’m not involved alright?”

“Not good enough, Echo.” Tim didn’t have time to scour all of Cobble Hill for Nygma’s supposed hide out. 

“Fine. Fine. I’ll text him. Happy?” Placing the pickle jar down she pulled an old cell phone from her back pocket. The screen was cracked and the case was covered in nicks and dents. 

Tim frowned watching her text. It could be a trap for all he knew. 

A light ding filled the room.

Tim craned his neck to look at the reply.

_Fluctuat nec mergitur_

“There. Happy?” Echo shoved the screen at him. 

Tim had to force himself not to groan in frustration. He hated riddles. 

“You’ll tell the Bat, I helped right?” Echo rubbed her elbow as she spoke. 

Tim held back a small smile. Batman had fractured her elbow when she tried to shoot Tim last Fall. “If this is a dead end, It won’t be me coming back asking.” 

He didn’t wait to hear her reply as he slipped back out of the pantry and through the back door. The night air felt colder than it had before he went in. He could hear his own pulse in his ear. He had really just done that? He had gone into a building filled with people who wanted both him and Bruce dead? _Alone_? Adrenaline suddenly seemed to hit. He was sweating and his hands shook as he made his way over rooftops. His whole body felt light. 

After he was twelve blocks away, he came to a stop. No one seemed to be following him. Mission success then. Now, that riddle. It was in Latin. That was for sure. Tim pulled up his mobile unit and entered the phrase into the Batcomputer’s search. If it connected to any old cases, or locations Nygma or any other criminal in Gotham used it would come up. Nothing.

Tim frowned and put it into his translator. Tossed but not sunk. 

“Tossed but not sunk,” Tim bit his lip repeating the words slowly to himself.

_Sunk implied water. Tossed… by the sea? A boat? He wasn’t looking for a boat, he was looking for a car. But a car was a kind of vessel too._ Tim began pacing the roof, unable to still his shaking hands. _Had Nygma tossed the car... but not into the bay? No. That didn’t seem right either and Gotham was surrounded by water so it was too broad an answer. He turned back to the computer. The phrase was the motto of Paris. She is tossed by the waves but never sinks. Tim froze. She. She is tossed by the waves but never sinks. Paris. The Statue of Justice stood on a platform just off of Paris Island!_

Tim spun himself to face south, and fired his grapple gun. 

Tim decided if he managed to pull this off, he would have to make sure Bruce never found out about going into the club. The shaking in his hands finally died down by the time he reached the edge of Paris Island.

The statue affectionately dubbed Lady Gotham stood worn and rusted by the water. Tim really didn’t want to swim out to it. But it would be impossible for Nygma to get the car all the way to the statue anyway, so either the Batmobile or the next clue was on Paris Island. Tim looked at the clock; it was already past 2:30. Bruce would be back by 5:30, six at the latest. 

Tim made his way to a plaque that was put up for tourists explaining the origin of the statue, and its significance to Gotham’s history. It was mostly made up. Robin examined the plaque running his gloved hands all around the surface. He turned on different lenses in his mask to see if there were any invisible messages, and even shook it for good measure. Nothing happened. _So not the sign then._

Tim turned back to the statue. She was facing away from the city, as if protecting Gotham from some unseen threat. Tim wondered if the artist knew that she should have looked inward. The real danger was the city itself. Tim tilted his head, looking at the way the water smacked against the statue. Pulling out his binoculars, he smirked. There was a buoy at the base of the statue that smacked against it as each wave rolled in. It never dipped below the surface. 

There written in green ink was his next clue. Call me by 16 names, in five stars I sit North, but you can only approach by East or West. 

Tim looked up at the cloud filled sky and yelled in frustration and fell back onto the grass. He was too tired for this. _Okay. Five stars. Yelp reviews? No, that’s dumb. 16 names? What on earth had 16 names?_ Tim pulled up his computer again. _Okay, keywords_. Tim typed angrily on his screen. ‘five stars’ + ‘16’ + ‘North’ + ‘East’ + ‘West’. Tim watched the computer sift through files. 

42 case files came up. All were labeled as having taken place in ChinaTown. Tim frowned. _The Chinese flag had five stars. So what had 16 names in ChinaTown?_ Nothing. No restaurants or stores had been recorded as changing their name that many times. _Okay. So maybe it’s not specific to ChinaTown in Gotham. What has 16 names in China?_ Tim laid back on his back and held his computer tablet over his face, not even caring that he was completely exposed. 

_Beijing_. _Beijing had been renamed 16 times. It was also in the North of China. But that made no sense. He couldn’t go to Beijing, there was also no way Nygma had taken the Batmobile there either. So what was called Beijing in ChinaTown?_ There were three restaurants with Beijing in the name, two shops and a decorative gate on the main street of ChinaTown _._ The street ran East to West. _That had to be it._

Tim rolled back on his shoulders, flipping to his feet. Robin smirked to himself. Nightwing was working with him on ways to quickly get out from under an attack. Batman might disapprove of the night Tim was having, but at least his form was improving. 

Tim made his way across the city for the third time that night. ChinaTown at least wasn’t too far from Paris Island. 

The gate itself was an unimpressive structure. The wood was bucked and bowed in places, and the paint had long faded away. He supposed it had once been a well made replica of the Gate that stood in Beijing, but it was far from it’s glory days. Tim approached it from the East side of the archway, only slightly disappointed by the lack of the Batmobile’s presence. Tim looked down at his watch again, and nearly choked. 3:56. Bruce would be home in little over an hour and a half. 

Tim wondered if he could lie convincingly enough to Bruce. He could pretend that he had been home all night. He could say ‘Gosh, Batman. I don’t know what could have happened. It’s really missing?’ Tim shuttered. No. Bruce would see through him. His feet began moving faster as he ran toward the gate. 

At first glance it looked as it always did. There was swathes of graffiti on the base, some old and faded, others fresh and even a few still slightly sticky to the touch. Tim bit back his snort of frustration. This night was meant to be easy. Set up surveillance, go home, sleep, heck maybe he would even have time to do his homework. But no. No. Tim was running around looking at random landmarks and racing against the ever quickening clock. Tim had a quiz tomorrow… today? Whatever. Tim needed to reread his notes. 

Robin threw up his hands and tilted his head to shout at the universe for picking _today_ to be mean. The curse died on his lips. Scrawled on the bottom of the arch was the next clue written in neon green. 

Nygma, must have been exceedingly rushed, for it had been crossed out and rewritten several times. 

Three cities in one place, where you eat all you want, but never get your fill. 

Robin rolled his eyes. _Three cities in one place. That could mean a lot of things. It could mean a bridge, it could be some sort of map, maybe the library? No the library would have more than three city maps, so would Town Hall._ Tim began to pace the length of the gate.

_Okay, eat all you want but never get your fill._ Tim’s stomach rumbled unhelpfully. It had been a long time since he ate his rushed tuna sandwich, but now wasn’t the time to think about being hungry. 

Tim blinked. 

_Hungry._

_Wasn’t the capital of Hungary once three cities that were combined into one? Yeah._ Tim pulled up his computer. He was sure he saw that on an episode of jeopardy. _Budapest was once three towns, Buda, Pest and Obuda. Was there somewhere in Gotham called Budapest?_

Tim glanced at the clock he had an hour left. 

_Right. Budapest Carpet cleaners? That didn’t feel right. Budapest pest control? No._ Tim flicked through the list quickly. _Budapest Burgers._

Tim paused his hand hovering over the screen. _Burgers? The riddle_ did _talk about food_. Hoping that he was right, Tim pulled up the address. 

Budapest Burgers was a hole in the wall diner that sat nestled between an old book store and a flower shop that looked like it had been out of business for a least a year. Tim threw caution to the wind and ran at top speed to the entrance. He had just under an hour before Bruce would be home. _Maybe he wouldn’t go to the Batcave?_ Tim rolled his eyes. _No. He would definitely go to the Batcave before bed_. Batman was nothing if not consistently obsessive over Gotham. He would want to check the computer for any new alerts, as if his phone wouldn’t receive a notification. 

Nygma was definitely getting lazy, or perhaps he too had run short on time. On the door of Budapest Burgers was a note and in Green ink was what Tim hoped would be the final clue. 

Add me together and what do you get? The road for your car to rest _._

Tim snatched the paper and crumbled it up. He was so sick of this. He wanted to go home. He wanted to sleep sometime this week. Next time he saw Nygma he was going to punch him _hard_ right in the nose. That would serve him right. 

Robin unfurled the note again and reread the clue. Add me together. _Add what? Add all of the past answers maybe? Lady Gotham, the Arch and a burger place._ Tim began to pace on the sidewalk. That seemed too random even for Nygma’s messed up brain _. Okay next part of the clue maybe._ The road for your car to rest. _Road where your car rests. Road could be a street, an alley, a motorway, a highway, or a turnpike?_ Tim shook his head. _This was useless. He needed to find the dumb car. He had run all around the city from Paris Island to ChinaTown to this dumb Buda--_ Tim froze. _Not ChinaTown_ Beijing. _He went from Paris to Beijing to Budapest._ They were all Capitals of their country _._ _Okay so Capitol something_. 

Tim pulled out his computer for the fourth time. He had almost finished typing ‘Capital Road’ into his search bar when it hit him. When your car is resting it’s parked. There was a new bridge being built between Burnley and Somerset that was going to be called Capital Parkway. 

Tim took off running. He had exactly 37 minutes to get the Batmobile back to the cave. He could do it. The bridge was only three miles away. He could swing over in less than five minutes. For once something had gone right. The part of town he was in had no shortage of sturdy grappling points. He had gargoyles and cranes and even a couple radio towers between here to the bridge. This would work. 

He landed on the road before the bridge started harder than he would have liked, but he didn’t have time to stop. Tim ran out hoping that the rivets connecting the stays were secure enough to hold him on the still unfinished bridge. He would have been shouted at by both Nightwing and Batman for running out on the unknown structure, but he didn’t have time to care, or check. 

Tim would be in enough trouble for tonight if he didn’t get home in time that adding one more thing to be yelled at didn’t seem like that much of a problem. When he reached the other side, there was a tarp covering what was shaped suspiciously like the Batmobile. Tim wanted to shout for joy. He wanted to thank the heavens and anyone who might be listening. He was going to make it. He was going to be able to get it back without Bruce finding out. 

He ripped back the tarp. His heart leapt into his throat. 

Underneath was nothing but rubble. 

“No.” Tim sat down hard on the pile. “No. It was… It was supposed to be…” He was dead. Tim was more than dead. He looked at his watch. Bruce would be home in less than twenty minutes. The game was up and Tim had lost. Well, at least if he was murdered he would have to take his quiz. Tim pulled himself to his feet. Without transportation it would take half an hour to get back to the Batcave. He might as well start on back now and get it over with. 

The whole way back to Bristol, Tim wondered if maybe Alfred would spare him. He would at least be sure to place flowers on his grave. The Cave was silent when he entered it. The bats were settling in for the day and made almost no sound this early in the morning. The only sounds were the faint hum of the massive computer. Tim could hear it even from the locker room. He peeled off his mask and cape, placing it into his locker for Alfred to clean. He wondered if he should change out of his tunic. Taking it off might mean this was the last time he would ever wear it. 

“Tim?”

Tim jumped, he hadn’t realized Bruce was already down here. “Yeah?” His voice squeaked.

Bruce poked his head in the locker room. “What are you doing up? It’s 5:40 in the morning.” Bruce’s eyes locked on Tim’s state of dress. “Did you just get back?”

Tim hung his head in resignation. “Yeah. I’m so sorry, Bruce. I swear I’ll make up for it. I’ll find it tomorrow night.” He could feel pressure building behind his eyes.

Bruce suddenly looked uncomfortable. He stood shifting his weight from foot to foot, as if unsure if he should move closer to the now crying boy. “Aah. Tim? I … Find what?”

“I didn’t mean to lose it. Honest. I was gone for twenty minutes and by the time I came back it was gone. Then I followed all the clues but it was just a dumb trick. I’ll track him down tonight, Bruce. Please, let me just try to find it tonight?”

“Tim. Hey wait. Slow down. What happened?” Bruce seemed to unfreeze and moved forward. He pulled Tim on to a bench and began inspecting his limbs and head for injury. 

Tim wanted it over, why didn’t he just yell at him. Did he have to make him say it? Bruce would have _seen_ the Batmobile missing the moment he came down the stone steps. Tim sniffed loudly as Bruce inspected him. 

“I lost the Batmobile.” 

The room was silent. Bruce stilled, his arm hovering over Tim’s left leg as if he had planned to lift it for examination. 

“I just borrowed it for putting up that surveillance equipment. Then when I went back to bring it to the cave, it was gone. Then I found Nygma had taken it. I solved all his clues, Bruce. I swear I tried to find it--”

“Tim--”

“But I don’t know--”

“Tim--”

“what he did with it. I can stay home and work on finding it too--”

“Tim!” Bruce shouted over him. 

Tim stiffened, and waited. Here it came.

“The car’s fine. It’s on the platform. I just saw it.”

Tim’s jaw dropped. “WHAT?” He leapt up and ran out of the locker room to the main cavern of the cave. There bold as brass was the Batmobile parked in its usual spot. Tim walked around it twice to check that it was real. It didn’t even have a scratch. How on _earth_ had it gotten here?

“Tim?”

He spun to face his mentor, his cheeks were burning bright red. “How?”

“I told you. It’s unstealable.” Bruce laughed, actually laughed. “The second someone the car doesn’t recognize tries to break in, it speeds off and drives home.” He shrugged, “Well it first speeds off and sends the Batsuit a notification, if I don’t respond it drives home. I upgraded it after Jas--”

Tim frowned as Bruce’s speech stuttered to a halt. “So I’ve been running around for _nothing_?”

Bruce’s smile was less pronounced then it had been, “Yeah, I’d say so.”

It had been here the whole night. Tim decided right then and there Nygma’s life was going to be a living hell. Tim made his way back to the locker room, Bruce hot on his heels. He threw the rest of his uniform into his locker and slammed it shut. 

“Tim, why didn’t you just call?”

He tilted his head back and looked at Bruce incredulously. 

Bruce sighed. “I’d rather you call and tell me what’s going on. I thought you had gone home already. If you had been hurt I wouldn’t have found out until it was too late. Mind you, you're still benched for…” Bruce studied the ceiling in consideration, “Three nights. But that’s more for trying to hide it then taking it without permission. Okay?”

Tim nodded numbly. 

“Come on. You need sleep. I’ll call your school and tell them you're sick.”

Tim mumbled curses at Nygma the whole way up the stone stairs.


End file.
